It's not unusual for owners to come to the stables in the flat middle of winter, snow and weather be damned. We had two such guests arrive. The excuse was to visit their three horses, who are prize winners. I'm the stablemaster. Their prize horses are part of my keep. Our outfit is successful. We're way high in the Rockies of Colorado.
These horses are well-bred riders, young, have great markings, and have boundless energy. I run them frequently or they get attitude. One of them jumped a fence like it wasn't there, a stunning leap in the snow and an hour later, we had him back but he'd scraped and injured a hoof. Not badly. Just the news of it seemed to draw them to the stables.
The owner, Stephan, is a Dane, and his wife Yulia is a thoroughbred, too. Where Stephan is short, compact and an outdoorsman, Yulia has long blonde curly hair, blue dagger eyes, and a racing bod. Stephan knows his animals. Unfortunately, Yulia is high maintenance and had the staff at the lodge under her frufru-nailed fingertips.
Didn't bother me any. I have work to do.
Stephan was down in the stables with Gabe and I. He had no fear of mucking stalls in what had to have been thousands of dollars in Patagonia gear covering him. He might also be trying to get away from Yulia. I would. Delightful to look at, this woman is, but rules roost. Both are proud of their English, which isn't perfect, but is very good.
I saddled up all three horses. They seemed eager to be ridden. Gabe, my stable hand, and Stephan and I took off for a couple hour ride. Snow, a bit of slush, fresh freaking air. Saw lots of wildlife. Some of the fence line was buried but mostly intact. Saw a wolf but it headed out as soon as we spied it. Those horses wanted to ride and were crazy happy to be outdoors and running.
Finally, we got back to the stables. We put up the horses and I checked the hoof injury, which we agreed wasn't bad.
Stephan looks at me and asks if he can use the shower stall. It's huge. I test him and say I might join him. He nods and walks off. Gabe winks at me, and leaves.
I hear the water going and I strip down, no easy chore. I'm groaning a bit.
I stop at the entrance and there he is. Not quite hairless except for the curly light brown mop on his head, now with suds. Got a nice five inch pecker on him. I wonder if he's a switch.
The showerhead is large and sits on a long arm, with a detachable spray head. Hoses are mounted on the wall. I walk to him, and grab the soap. Soon I, too, have suds. He comments on my pierced tits.
"Did that hurt?"
"Hell no." I tell him. "Best five second, non-penile orgasm of my life." He nods his head.
"Not that I want to do that every DAY!"
He laughs loudly and then grips his crank and wanks it a couple of times.
"So what do you do for sex around here?" he asks.
Aha! Game on.
"I'm a gay cowboy. We get by." I tell him.
"There are other gay cowboys here?"
